Going Under
by Demon2
Summary: Set after Reunion. Sark thinks. Rated T for a death.


Disclaimer:  I don't own alias, won't ever own it, so get over it.  I don't own Evanescence or the song, Going Under.  And I never claimed to.

Sark leaned back in his plush office chair, gazing out of the 2nd story window of his current home, looking out over the rolling green hills of Ireland.  He was trying to concentrate on the Intel he had gathered so he could make sense of it, but his mind kept wandering off to a certain dark haired woman.  A woman that had, in the past, stolen his Intel and his freedom.  A woman that had also stolen his heart.

            He thought back to the meeting in the Mexican desert, where he was to be traded for some CIA agent.  When he realized that his life was in danger, he saw Sydney Bristow give him a look that no one had ever given him before.  A look of compassion.  One of honest concern that betrayed her hatred of him.  A look that made him want to kiss her.

            However, in the instance that it appeared, it was gone, as was the small window of opportunity Sark had to do… something.  He still didn't know what he would have done should he have acted at that moment.  But he was glad he did nothing.  It would have revealed a side of him that he didn't want anyone to see.  A side that no one had seen since he had been with Allison.  

            A side he believed had died with her.

            Sark shook his head, trying to remove the thoughts that had been plaguing him since he heard of Sydney's 'death'.  Thoughts that doubled in intensity when Allison was killed in action two months after Sydney had supposedly died.  Now it seemed no matter what he did, those two women plagued him, always present while he was conscious, always haunting him while he slept.

            He did know that Allison had fallen in love with Tippin while posing as Francie.  He supposed that Tippin had treated her the way Sark couldn't, because of his nature, because of the business.  But that didn't matter.  He had lost Allison twice over.  And Sydney…

            Sydney was in love with Michael Vaughn, who married during her absence.  No matter what he did, Sark knew she'd never love him, no matter what fantasies or scenarios he came up with in his mind in attempt to sweep her off her feet.  She viewed him as a monster, a traitor, a cold-blooded killer.

            Part of which was true, Sark admitted to himself.  He did kill people in cold blood.  It was part of his training, and his job.  He wouldn't be alive today if he didn't kill in cold blood.  A monster?  In the eyes of most, he was.  However they didn't know why he did what he did.  They didn't know that he wasn't just putting money in his pocket, or satisfying some grotesque desire for bloodshed.  He was trying, in his own small way, to have a significant impact on the world.  To change it.  Whether it be for better or for worse, he wasn't the judge.

            Traitor.  That was the one thing he was not.  He wasn't an American.  He didn't know until quite recently what his heritage even was.  He had no loyalty to any country.  Nor did he desire to.  In fact the only loyalty he had was to himself.  

            He planned to keep it that way.  

            Sark sighed.  He could tell that this downward spiral of his wasn't good for him.  He needed to find a way, any way, to keep these persistent thoughts off his mind.  He glanced over at a stack of cd's that was left by the previous owner of this house after he 'mysteriously' disappeared.  Looking at the top cd, he noticed that the group was called "Evanescence".  He flipped the case over and glanced at the song names.  Shrugging slightly, he took out the cd and put it into his laptop.  The first song came on, and Sark listened, almost entranced by the female voice.  He listened to the lyrics carefully, and an idea came to mind, one that he knew he would regret both if he did do it, and if he didn't do it.  Immediately, he set to work, planning his course of action.

            Two days later Sark stood outside Sydney's apartment.  He knew she was at work so he wasn't worried when he picked the lock and entered.  He took his time, surveying her new apartment, noting differences in decoration from the last and wondering at what she was thinking when she moved in.  

            As he wondered, an unfamiliar feeling stirred.  One of sorrow.  Sark believed that he could almost feel the sorrow, the confusion, the disorientation of returning to her life, finding out that 2 years had passed.  

            He walked over to a low table that sat near a pair of couches.  Noting the empty bottle of liquor on the table, he unconciously shook his head.  He didn't want Sydney to be sad, didn't want her to turn to alcohol for release.  He'd rather her turn to him, although he knew that would never happen.  He sighed and reached inside his coat to pull out a note, when he heard a click behind him.  

            "Don't move" Eric Weiss said, holding an unwavering gun at Sark.

            "If that is your wish," Sark responded, hand still in his coat.

            "Show me your hands.  Slowly" Weiss comanded.  Slowly, Sark withdrew his hand from his coat and raised his hands just above his head.  "What are you doing here?" Weiss demanded.

            "I could ask you the same."  Sark responded evenly.

            "No games.  Tell me why you are here."

            "Frankly, Mr. Weiss, that is none of your concern."  Sark said.  At that moment, he turned and rushed at Weiss, hoping that his sudden movement would throw him off.  It did.  Sark tackled Weiss to the ground before he could react.  Sitting on Weiss' chest, Sark fought to gain control of his gun.  They struggled for several minutes when the gun fired, and a body slumped to the ground.  

            Sydney returned to her apartment after work to find it surrounded by police officers.  A million thoughts raced through her mind as she rushed past the police line and into her apartment.  The sight that greeted her made her gasp in shock.  

            Sark lay dead on her living room floor.

            She rushed over to Weiss who was talking to some police officers.

            "What happened?"  She demanded.

            Weiss turned to her, his eyes both sad and shocked.  "I caught Sark in your apartment.  I had a gun pointed at him when he charged at me.  We got into a struggle and the gun went off…" He trailed off.  One of the officers held out a piece of paper to Sydney.

            "You're Sydney Bristow, right?"  He asked.  She nodded and took the paper.  It was neatly folded and had her name written on the outside of the paper.  She unfolded it and read the message that waited within.

            After reading it, she burst into tears and ran off down the hall.  Weiss picked up the note and read the elegant handwriting of a terrorist that was meant for Sydney.

_"Sydney,_

_Now **I** will te**l**l y**o**u what I'**v**e don**e** for **y**ou_

_50 th**o**usand tears I've cried_

_Screaming decieving and bleeding for yo**u**_

_And you still won't hear me._

_Just when I thought I'd reached the bottom_

_I'm dying again._

_I know you think I am a monster… but I had to tell you._

_Sark_

_* Going Under"_


End file.
